


all that you can give

by preromantics



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Adam tears another tattoo from the little sheet Kris stole from Matt, leaning over Kris' thigh again to reach the sink, one of his elbows sinking in the crease of Kris' hip in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat a little.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	all that you can give

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on 8/15/09.

The press of the wet tissue is cold, too cold, and Kris laughs in reaction, jerking his arm back and the little tattoo paper slips, leaving a few sticky dark spots on the inside of his arm.

Adam rolls his eyes, balling up the piece of tissue. "Did you ever get these as a kid?" he asks, sighing a little and reaching around to hoist Kris' arm up, curling one hand around Kris' elbow.

Kris shifts on the bathroom counter, spreading his thighs a little wider so Adam can reach the sink to wet another tissue. Adam takes it and wipes slowly at the little sticky patch left over from the failed tattoo -- it's cold, too, but Kris doesn't jerk away, just flexes his arm a little uncomfortably and stares at a point over Adam's shoulder.

Adam's hand feels nice, just skin-cool around Kris' elbow and Kris watches him bite into his bottom lip, concentrating on Kris' arm like he does when he's applying eyeliner, singularly focused.

"Okay," Adam says, leaning back, "we'll try this again, since you are obviously five."

"Am not," Kris shoots back, automatic, and Adam looks at him with an eyebrow raised until Kris snorts at him.

Adam tears another tattoo from the little sheet Kris stole from Matt, leaning over Kris' thigh again to reach the sink, one of his elbows sinking in the crease of Kris' hip in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat a little.

"Stay still," Adam says, peeling the plastic from the front of the tattoo and pressing it softly into the skin of Kris' forearm. He puts the tissue down next and Kris expects the cold press this time, lets himself feel it all the way down his spine.

His eyes feel a little unfocused and he's not sure where to focus -- Adam's face, lip still bitten in concentration, Adam's fingers, rubbing soft-slow over the skin around the tattoo while his thumb presses against the tissue, Adam right there, between his thighs.

"Cold," Kris says, low, when he finds Adam's eyes, looking right at his face. He shifts, crossing his legs at the ankle and then uncrossing them, inadvertently brushing too close to Adam's own legs.

"Just a few more seconds," Adam tells him. He's not looking at the tattoo, though, looking instead still at Kris with a tiny curve to his mouth almost like a smirk.

Adam peels the tissue off first, presses against the tattoo paper and it slides down Kris' arm, slick, sliding down to reveal the freshly applied image.

"That looks --" Kris starts, but Adam bends down, pulling at Kris' arm and leaning his face in close to blow cool air on it, lips pursed and eyes close. Kris pulls his arm back after a second, skin prickling all up and down his arm and lower, and he leans back on the counter loosely. Adam goes to shift away, Kris can see it out of the corner of his eye and he shoots his own arm out to grab at Adam's hair -- the closest thing.

"Yes?" Adam questions, low and a little dark, and Kris curls his hand a little tighter in Adam's hair, soft from his earlier venue shower.

Kris doesn't know how to put into words what he's asking for, if anything, he's still learning that boundary between them both. What he can have and what he can't so he just scratches a little along Adam's scalp and spreads his legs a little wider, tilts his hips up.

Adam laughs at him, pushing back into his hand but he sinks down on his knees anyway, wrapping each arm around Kris' knees and pulling him as close to the edge of the counter as he can and flicking open the button on Kris' fly.

Kris pushes his hips up obediently when Adam pulls on his waistband, shuffling his jeans and boxers down around his knees so he can lean close in-between. Adam makes a small noise of approval and Kris reaches down with his other hand to press his fingers along the broad side of Adam's jaw.

"Don't," Kris says, an afterthought, "your voice -- don't go so far, you don't want to --" but Adam wraps one hand around the base of Kris' cock as he's speaking, almost too-tight and Kris kind of trails off.

"It's not sexy to sound like a concerned mother when I'm about to suck you off, Allen," Adam says and Kris pulls hard at his hair, grinning. "Still, though, I appreciate the sentiment."

"Just," Kris says, moving the hand at Adam's jaw and gesturing vaguely.

"I don't know what that is supposed to mean," Adam says, full out smirking now, "but okay," and takes the head of Kris' dick between his lips, using just his tongue and moving his hand slowly up and down the rest.

He sucks him shallowly, and Kris kicks his pants off all the way and wraps his legs around Adam's shoulders, digging his sock-covered toes in almost like a massage, and Adam hums a little contentedly while he moves his hand, twisting just slightly and letting some spit from his mouth slide down, slicking up the motion.

Kris can make out a blurred reflection of them both in the glass shower door -- Adam fully clothed and kneeling between Kris' thighs, his shoulder blades pulling the material of his t-shirt tight across his back. The only thing that gives away what he's doing his Kris' bare legs wrapped along his shoulder, Kris' hands both tangled in his hair -- more resting there than anything else, scratching with the pads of his fingertips along Adam's scalp, twisting the hair a little when Adam takes in more than the head and hollows his cheeks -- and the way Adam's head is moving back and forth, rhythmic.

"Hey," Kris breathes, surprised at the tension spreading down his torso, settling in his cock, just from Adam's careful but deliberate attention, tongue twisting around the head of Kris' cock just right and pressing just under at the gathering of nerves there, swiping along the ridge, still keeping shallow.

Adam keeps a hand running up and down Kris' bare thigh, but moves it suddenly, wrapping his thumb and forefinger in a tight -- too tight -- circle at the base of Kris' dick, and Kris bucks up into his mouth, pulling Adam's hair and Adam groans a little wickedly as Kris' body rushes into coming but barely can with Adam gripping so hard. Adam pops off the head, running the tip of his tongue at the sensitive ridge and loosens his grip all at once.

Kris comes hard enough to snap his head back against the mirror, eyes squeezed shut and Adam ducks out of his hands to stand up fast, leaning over him, almost overwhelming and pressing Kris back further into the counter, licking into his mouth harshly, chin and lips slick with Kris' come. He pushes some into Kris' mouth, groaning when Kris leans back up to match their tongues stroke for stroke until they both loose breath.

Adam backs off slowly, and Kris lets his head fall back into the mirror again with a breathless laugh.

"I don't remember getting temporary tattoos being this fun when I was a little kid," he says after a few seconds, letting Adam shove him over a little to join him on the counter. It creaks a little under both of them.

"No?" Adam asks, and Kris doesn't even have to look at his face to see how pleased he looks. "Me either, I think I need a refresher."

Kris grins, eyes still closed. "I can't reach you on the counter," he says, jumping off, "but I need a shower now, so."

Adam follows him, pressing him against the wall, briefly before stripping off his own shirt. "Well, that sounds promising."


End file.
